THE CHASE

Sera's boots pounded against cobblestones as she ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind her, she heard the restaurant door slam open, heard voices calling out in alarm.

She didn't look back. The streets of the Nocturne District blurred past her as she pushed her legs harder, faster. Her magic sparked at her fingertips, responding to her panic, and she forced it down. Using magic would only make her more visible and mark her as a witch to every vampire in range.

But the bond was screaming at her to stop, to turn around, to go back to him. It felt like running against a riptide, every step away from him requiring twice the effort it should. Her chest ached with more than just exertion.

Her thoughts were racing as she turned down a small side street. To have a shot, she had to leave vampire territory and return to neutral land. If she could stay ahead of him for a few more blocks, the district wouldn't be too big.

Just in front of her, a figure fell from a rooftop.

Sera almost fell as she slid to a stop. The vampire straightened to his full height and stood carefully. Those ice-blue eyes stood out even in the low light of the gas lamps. He was even more impressive up close, towering and broad-shouldered, wearing dark clothing that seemed both official and practical. The costly tailoring conceals a fighter's bulk.

"Don't run," he murmured in a calm, low voice. "You'll only make this harder."

Sera extended her hand instead of responding. The spell struck him squarely in the chest with a burst of kinetic force that came out of instinct. He flew backwards and hit the building's stone wall behind him with enough power to break the mortar.

She sprinted in the other direction.

The lessons her grandmother had taught her about surviving in a world that wanted you dead began to take effect. If you can escape, don't fight. If you can hide, don't use magic. Nobody should be trusted, especially if their type has been pursuing you for forty centuries.

The relationship tugged more forcefully now, almost painfully. She sensed his surprise, his confusion, and, beneath that, what may have been admiration. He didn't think she would fight back.

She almost ran into two more vampires as she turned another corner. They moved in a predatory, coordinated manner to block her way. She understood they were guards. He had requested assistance.

"Which," one of them growled, his lips retracting to reveal his fangs.

Sera's magic erupted once more, but she shaped it differently. Her skill, passed down from her grandma, is shadows. The gas lamp light vanished as the alley's darkness deepened and grew more complete. She darted between the two vampires in the chaos, feeling their hands grab at the vacant space where she had just been.

She suddenly emerged onto a larger street from the alley. A few pedestrians in the late hours of the night turned to look. Human witnesses could help discourage the vampires from doing anything obvious.

Then again, vampires owned this district. They made the rules here.

Impossibly quick footsteps behind her. She dared to look back and saw him once more—the one from the restaurant—closing the distance with unbelievable speed. He had a focused, intense look that was more nuanced than hostile.

She sensed his resolve through the bond. He would not allow her to get away.

Sera noticed a crevice between buildings that was so small she would have to turn sideways to go through. She threw herself into it, scurrying up and over a fence on the other side with the aid of a bit of levitation. Her jacket tore when it caught on the iron spikes at the top, but she managed to free herself and descend into what appeared to be a private garden. 

She'd bought herself seconds at most. The fence wouldn't stop a vampire.

The garden was modest, with a fence along the fourth side and tall stone walls along the other three. A dead end. She had trapped herself.

She whispered, "No, no, no," and turned to find another way out. There was a door in the distant wall that most likely led to the building that owned the garden. She grabbed the handle and raced for it.

Locked.

She heard the fence rattle behind her. He was on his way.

Sera raised her hands and slammed her back against the door. Green light flickered between her fingers as her magic grew. She felt as though her heart might burst through her ribs due to its intense pounding. It was this. She didn't think she could defeat a vampire, so she was going to have to fight him—really fight.

Particularly not one who seemed quick enough to follow her across the narrow alleyways.

He barely made a sound as he landed in the garden and slowly straightened. They simply gazed at one another for a considerable amount of time. With less distance between them, their bond grew stronger and drew them closer.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he declared.

Sera let out a hysterical laugh. "All right. Since vampires are renowned for their generosity toward witches."

His jaw clenched. "You're breaking district law. You have no business being here.

"Then let me leave."

"I can't do that." He moved in closer, raising his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

"You're... this bond is..." "Impossible?" she finished. "A mistake? A curse?" "Real," he said quietly. The word hung between them. Real. Undeniable. The mate bond, the thing that hadn't existed between their kinds for four hundred years, since Aldric and Morgana. Since the murder that started the war. "It doesn't matter," Sera said, though her voice wavered. "You're a vampire. I'm a witch. This can't happen." "I know." He sounded almost regretful. "But it is happening.

I now have to choose how to handle it."

He reached for something at his belt. Sera responded with a flare of power, but he was quicker. She heard footsteps coming from several directions as he touched a button on what appeared to be a little remote.

 More guards are surrounding the garden. "Don't make this violent," he said. "Please." The please surprised her.

Through the bond, there was a hint in his voice and expression that he didn't want to harm her. She should have felt reassured by the realisation. Instead, it made her more afraid. Because it was inevitable that a vampire would want her dead. A troubled vampire posed an entirely new kind of threat.

Every Nightguard member in the garden was armed and stared at her with a variety of shocked and enraged looks. They have heard the term "witch." They were aware of her identity.

One of them, a woman with amber eyes and silver-blonde hair, had a look of dawning terror on her face as she glanced between Sera and the vampire from the restaurant.

"Lucien," the woman uttered in a strained voice. "What is this?"

Lucien. So that was his name. Sera filed it away, her thoughts searching for a way out but failing to find one. She was outnumbered, surrounded, and worn out from running.

"Stand down," Lucien ordered his group. "She's not to be harmed."

Another guard said, "She's a witch," while holding his firearm.

 "Protocol is clear—" "I said, stand down."

Lucien's voice suddenly had the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "She's... under my protection."

He seemed to lose something as a result of the words. The guards glanced at one another, seeming perplexed. With what appeared to be betrayal, the blonde woman—Elara, Sera somehow knew, information seeping through the bond—stared at Lucien.

"Sir," Elara murmured cautiously. "You can't be serious."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Lucien had a stern look on his face.

"Restrain her, but carefully. No harm comes to her. That's an order."

Pulling out the shackles, two guards advanced. They were the same kind that had burned her grandmother's wrists, and Sera knew them. Anxiety tore at her throat.

"Don't touch me," she said, her magic cracking.

She could not keep up with Lucien's rapid movements.

He was a few feet distant in one instant, and then he was standing in front of her, his hand around her wrist. His flesh on hers completed a circuit she was unaware was lacking, and the contact sent a shock through the bond, combining pleasure and pain.

He said, "Don't fight," just to her. "They are afraid of you. They will retaliate with deadly force if you attack, and I won't be able to stop them all."

She searched his face and shouted, "Why?" "Why would you stop them at all?"

His mouth tightened. She saw the conflict within him through the bond—centuries of training and animosity clashing with something more recent that the bond had sparked.

 Instinct that said protect, mine, mate. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm not letting them kill you. So please, stop fighting." The guards approached with the chains. The metal looked ordinary but felt wrong, coated in magic designed to suppress witch power. Sera's magic recoiled from it even before it touched her skin. "I'll go with you," she said, hating how her voice shook. "But those chains—" "Are necessary," Lucien finished. "You're powerful. I felt that blast you hit me with.

They are just as much in need of protection as you are.

She was terrified when the cold metal tightened around her wrists, even though the reasoning made sense. Her charm instantly became muffled, remote, and dampened. It felt cramped, as if you were covered in a heavy fabric that blocked out sound and air.

She sensed Lucien's uneasiness at her fright through the bond. Even though he didn't like this, he wasn't going to stop it.

She said, "Where are you taking me?"

"The palace," he murmured. "You'll be held there until I figure out what to do with you."

"You mean until you decide how to kill me."

For a moment, she saw past the vampire and the adversary to someone who shared her confusion and fear. Both his and her worlds had been turned upside down by the bond.

"I mean until I figure out what this bond means," he said. "And why does it exist between us when it shouldn't be possible?"

Elara took the lead as the guards gathered around them. She continued to look back at Sera with hardly disguised hostility. The other guards were the same; their bodies were rigid, their hands on their weapons, and they were prepared to attack her despite the chains.

Pedestrians scrambled out of their way as they passed through the Nocturne District like a little military procession. Word would soon get out that a witch had been apprehended by the Nightguard. 

In vampire territory, that was news.

Sera's thoughts were racing. She had to get away and let Rowan and the others know that she had been compromised. She was surrounded by skilled vampire fighters, even without the chains, which prevented her from using magic. It would be suicide to fight.

She followed them as they led her farther into enemy territory and in the direction of the vampire royalty's palace. A witch who was dumb enough to allow a mate bond to drag her into the depths of evil would face whatever doom was ahead.

With its imposing spires and Gothic architecture, the palace loomed in the distance. Everyone in Ashwick had previously witnessed it from a distance, but Sera had never seen it quite like this. Never as a prisoner being marched to her likely demise.

She sensed Lucien's agony through the bond. He was making choices, doing calculations, and attempting to choose a course of action that would not result in the death of one or both of them.

She nearly felt sorry for him. Nearly. Then she recalled all the witches who had been murdered by his type, including her parents and grandmother. Like water on a hot stone, any sympathy vanished.

They entered a courtyard illuminated by additional gas lighting after passing through enormous iron gates.

When the guards at the door spotted Lucien, they were alert, and when they saw Sera in her chains, their eyes grew wide.

"Get word to the king," Lucien commanded. "Tell him I need an audience immediately."

"Sir, at this hour—"

"Now."

The guard ran away. They proceeded inside, past paintings of old vampires whose eyes appeared to follow Sera as she went, and down corridors adorned with crimson carpets and black wood. Everything about the palace was intended to intimidate and impress, and it was gorgeous in a frigid sense.

At last, they came to a halt outside a pair of doors. With a low but urgent voice, Elara moved closer to Lucien.

"What are you doing, Lucien? A witch cannot be brought before the king. You are unable to—" Her eyes widened as she halted. "No. The bond. You and she are bound.

It wasn't a question. Elara had figured it out, and judging by her expression, it was worse than she had anticipated.

"Elara," Lucien began.

Elara remarked in a trembling voice, "We've been at war for four hundred years because of a vampire and witch bond." "Because it resulted in betrayal and murder." You've bonded with one of them, too. To the enemy."

"I didn't choose this."

"Neither did King Aldric!" Elara's composure cracked. "And it got him killed.

Your great-great-grandfather's witch mate killed him as a result. How are you going to pretend that this isn't a death sentence?

Sera's heart fell. Naturally, she was aware that Lucien was a member of the vampire nobility. It was clear from the way he carried authority and the way the guards obeyed him. However, learning that he was descended from Aldric himself verified it...

This wasn't just any vampire. This was the great-great-grandson of the man her ancestor allegedly murdered.

The symmetry was too flawless.

History really was repeating itself. The doors opened before Lucien could respond to Elara.

A steward motioned for them to enter.

The steward responded, "His Majesty will see you now," but he appeared anxious. "Though he wishes me to convey his... displeasure at being woken at this hour."

"Noted," Lucien remarked sourly.

He motioned for Sera to move ahead of him. Despite her dread, she refused to back down and raised her chin. She would pass away with dignity if she were to die here.

Shadows gathered on the lofty ceiling of the enormous throne room. A vampire who could only be the king sat at the far end on an elaborate chair that was unmistakably a throne, even though vampires no longer used that term.

He had the same sharp features and ice-blue eyes as Lucien, but he was older and more rugged. His dark hair was interwoven with silver, and his expression conveyed a sense of centuries of power, choices made, and repercussions endured.

King Matthias Ashcroft. The vampire who had spent the previous four centuries spearheading the fight against witches.

In front of him, Sera was shackled, captured, and totally at his mercy.

"Well," Matthias remarked, his voice resonating effortlessly over the spacious space.

"This is unexpected."